


poetry in numbers

by airbefore



Category: Castle
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-01
Updated: 2012-05-01
Packaged: 2017-11-06 23:35:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/424452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airbefore/pseuds/airbefore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beckett and Castle revisit their conversation about numbers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	poetry in numbers

She knows she’s tipsy when Castle’s incessant pestering strikes her as adorable rather than annoying.

“No, Castle.”

“But Beckeeeeeett,” he whines, hair flopping over his forehead, “I told you mine. It’s only fair that you reciprocate.”

Kate gives him a half-hearted eye roll and takes another sip of the scotch he’d insisted she try, relishes the way it burns down her throat, settles low in her stomach. They’re sitting on the couch in Castle’s office at the Old Haunt, her legs resting across his lap while he lazily rubs a hand up and down her left shin. The combination of the alcohol, his rhythmic touch, and the gentle buzz from the busy bar upstairs is lulling her, clouding her mind with an innocuous hum that drowns out the stresses of her day.

“You offered,” she sighs, trying to conceal her amusement behind a well-worn façade of mild exasperation. “You offered with absolutely no prompting from me therefore reciprocity is contingent upon my willingness to share.”

“‘Reciprocity is contingent upon my willingness to share’? God, you are so hot.”

“Are you ever going to stop being turned on by my vocabulary?”

“Probably not,” he retorts, a cheeky leer playing across his lips before the pout returns. “Come on, just tell me.”

“Why do you want to know? What does it matter?” Kate fixes him with a glare that she knows is soft around the edges. If called on it, she’ll blame the alcohol but in truth it’s him. He makes her soft. She’s come to accept it. Appreciate it. He helped her reclaim the pieces of herself that she had lost - to her past, her job, her fear - and these simple moments with him fortify her. Keep her whole.

“It’s important to share these things. A healthy relationship is based on open and honest communication.”

“Thank you, Dr. Phil,” she scoffs before taking a mouthful of scotch. The burn has mellowed into a gentle warmth that loosens her limbs, relaxes her muscles. “And I’m all for honesty but I really think the line can be drawn at detailing sexual histories. I mean, do you really want to know?”

“Yes.” He eyes are earnest, no trace of guile to be found.

“Why?”

“Because I’m me,” he says, shrugging one shoulder as though that should be explanation enough. She laughs, bobs her head in agreement. “It’s not some patriarchal or territorial thing, Kate. I just want to know.”

Kate stares into her glass, toes curled around the edge of surrender. His desire to know her, all of her, is the foundation of their partnership, their relationship. The story he built for her in his head, through his books, has long since stopped being the point. He wanted to scale her walls and she let him. Let him into her - her life, her heart - in ways she had never thought possible, with him or anyone else. She sighs and finishes the last of her drink before looking up at him again.

“Alright.” She meets his gaze, sees the delight spark across his face at her acquiescence. “Ok, I give. It’s -”

“No!” Castle cuts her off, pressing two fingers to her lips. “I wanna guess. More fun that way.”

She opens her mouth, takes his index finger between her teeth. His breath catches when she rolls her tongue along the tip, dips into the ridges and whorls of his fingerprint. He swallows hard as she lets his finger slip from her mouth, hand suspended in midair between them.

“Go ahead. Guess.”  
.  
His hand drops back to her leg, thumb swirling light circles around the bony protrusion of her knee. “More than five?”

She smiles and nods, shifting against the cushions. His eyes track her movements as she leans over the side of the couch, places her empty glass on the floor.

“More than five less than thirty?”

“Cutting a pretty wide swath there, Castle.” She raises an eyebrow at him, swings her legs off his lap. His hands chase her calves as they descend, fingertips grasping at the flowing fabric of her slacks.

“Just trying to give myself some wiggle room.” Kate twists toward him as he speaks, plants her knee next to his thigh. “No fun if it’s over too soon.” She chuckles at him as she swings her right leg over and settles herself on his lap. His right hand lands on her hip, thumbnail scraping across the ridge of her pocket. “More than five less than twenty?”

She nods again, takes the tumbler dangling from the fingers of his left hand. She catches his eye then tilts her head back, makes a show of draining the amber liquid he’s been nursing for the past half hour. Leaning back against his raised knees, she drops his glass next to hers with a satisfying clunk. She rights herself and finds his gaze focused on her chest, apparently captivated by the way the fitted fabric of her button down strains across her breasts. The lust shimmering in his eyes crashes violently into the alcohol sliding down her throat, rushes straight to her head, makes it spin.

“More than five less than fifteen?” His voice has dropped an octave, the low notes striking a corresponding chord in her chest, sending arousal vibrating through her veins. Kate reaches out, starts popping the buttons on his dress shirt. His eyes dart back and forth from her hands to her lips, fingers tightening against the curve of her hip.

“Yes,” she affirms, sliding her hands under the open halves of his shirt. His chest is hot and solid under her palms, comforting in its breadth. Castle stops his game for a moment and watches her. She runs her hands up his chest, pauses over the spot where his heart beats steadily against his ribs. He draws a deep breath when she curves her fingers, presses her nails into the soft flesh, marking him.

“Thirteen?”

She pushes the shirt over his shoulders, drags her hands down his biceps. Castle leans forward to free himself from the tangle of cotton and Kate takes advantage of the shift in position, scrapes her teeth along the sharp line of his jaw. His familiar fragrance, spicy and sharp, fills her lungs. She wants to crawl inside that scent, wrap it around herself like a blanket.

“Six?”

She slips further into his lap, her pelvis settling firmly into the right angle of his thighs. His hips twitch, the fabric of his jeans scuffing across the slick leather of the couch. His hands coast up and down her back.

“Twelve?”

Kate presses soft open mouth kisses along the line of his shoulder, lets her hair trail across him. Castle has always been fascinated by her hair. He likes to run his hands through it at every opportunity, wrapping the curls around and around his fingers, watching them unravel when he lets go. He makes no secret of he how loves to feel it on his body, the ends feathering over his skin while she hovers above him.

“Sev -Seven?”

Castle stumbles when she dips her tongue into the hollow at the base of this throat, kisses her way up his neck. She nibbles lightly at his Adam’s apple and he growls out his next guess, the vibration travelling through her lips before combusting inside her chest.

“Eight?”

Her hips rock against his, a groan rumbling through his chest in response. She smiles against his skin, rocks into him again with more force.

“Fourte-”

“Ten,” she cuts him off, lips skimming the sensitive skin just below his ear. “It's ten.” She drags her mouth across his cheek, lets his stubble burn her lips.

“Knew I'd get you to tell me eventually,” he whispers against the corner of her mouth, his nose brushing the hollow of her cheek. The want in his tone erases the implied victory in his words.

“Shut up, Castle,” she mumbles as she kisses him, sucking his bottom lip between hers. The scotch has left his mouth smoky and dark, dangerous. She can taste her name on his tongue, can feel his desire flaring around the edges of his kiss.

One of his hands is fisted in her hair, twisting and tugging, sending currents of arousal down her arched spine. Kate moans into his mouth when his other hand finds the curve of her ass, palming her roughly. It had taken her weeks at the beginning to convince him that she wasn’t fragile, wasn’t going to break under the full weight of his touch, his love. The too gentle caresses, filled with such longing and tenderness, had broken her heart and she’d finally had to resort to shoving him up against the wall in her kitchen, showing him what she could handle. What she wanted. Remembering the way his eyes had flashed, full of fire and hunger, as he’d bent her over the counter still makes her blood boil.

“Tell me about them,” he whispers against her neck, his teeth scraping against her pounding pulse.

“What?” She pushes back from him, confusion and lust swamping her brain, slowing her reactions. “Why?”

“I want to know.” His lips are still working at her neck, distracting her. She knows he’s doing it intentionally but she doesn’t really care. “You know mine.” He bites down on her ear, rolls his tongue along the fleshy lobe. “Well, most of them.”

“The ones you remember, you mean,” she rebuts, slightly breathless. One of his hands has worked its way under the hem of her shirt, fingers splayed wide across her stomach. His thumb draws a lazy line back and forth from her navel to the button of her pants. “And, again, you offered. Plus, I’ve _met_ a quarter of them.” She sits back on his thighs, stares him down. He smiles at her, all smug confidence, untangles his hand from her hair.

“Then let's start with the ones I know.” Castle moves both his hands to the front of her shirt, starts slowing releasing the buttons.

“Or _think_ you know,” she tosses back, pushing his hands away. He smirks again at the challenge in her voice.

“Alright, Detective. I’ll start with an easy one.” His nails are scraping lightly up and down her thighs, the muscles tensing and relaxing rhythmically under his hands. He’s playing dirty and they both know it. “Doctor Motorcycle Boy.”

Kate rolls her eyes but doesn’t bother to reprimand him about the nickname. She’s accepted that Castle, for all his patience and love and understanding, will always harbor a bit of jealousy where Josh is concerned. She wishes she could change it, shine a light into the dark corner where he hides his heart on the rare occasion that Josh’s name is mentioned. Instead, she meets his gaze and pops open a button on her shirt. Castle’s eyes sparkle with recognition and delight when she moves her hands up, waits for his next guess.

“Will.”

She pops the next button, watches his confident grin grow.

“Wet flannel grunge rocker.”

Another button.

“Oh, come on, Beckett,” he grouses. “That had to be worth at least two since it was based on theory, not known fact.”

She rolls her eyes at him again but releases another button anyway.

“Demming.” The triumphant smile slides off his lips when she re-fastens the button she had just opened. “No Demming?”

“Nope,” she states simply, not wanting to go into the details. That summer has come up a few times since they finally gave in to the inevitable and she has no desire to relive it yet again. Especially not now that they’re here, half naked and pleasantly buzzed, happy. He stares at her for a moment, unblinking. Something she can’t quite name - happiness tempered by regret and curiosity - flashes through his eyes, there and gone in an instant.

“Esposito.”

Now it’s her turn to stare, eyes wide and heart in her throat.

“How did you know that?” She chokes on her words, mouth suddenly dry, her tongue thick and heavy.

“I didn’t,” he replies. “Not for certain.”

“But how -”

“I’ve always suspected.” Castle smiles, soft and gentle, and her stomach drops. “There’s a kind of ‘I’ve seen you naked recreationally’ vibe between the two of you. It’s subtle but it’s definitely there.”

“You’re not - it doesn’t -” She trips over her tongue, unsure of what she really wants to say. Unsure of what she’s really worried about in this moment. “It doesn’t upset you?”

“There’s nothing for me to be upset about. I assume it was a long time ago, relatively speaking.” His words are calm and even but there’s an unmistakable question in his tone. She nods an affirmation. “I do have to ask, though, if Lanie knows?”

“Yeah, she knows. She was actually out with us that night. It was years ago. We were still uniforms and Lanie had just started as a junior ME. A hard case plus a lot of alcohol -” She stops speaking, searches his face. His eyes are wide and clear, no jealousy or anger hiding in the shadows. “You’re sure you’re not upset?”

“I’m sure. And, hey, at least I’m not the last member of the team to see you naked,” he wiggles his eyebrows at her. “Unless Ryan’s somewhere on your list.”

“I think that, of the two of us, you’re the one Ryan would rather see naked, Castle.” The warmth and affection in his gaze is a balm, soothing the awkward sting of unintended revelations. “He has a bit of a man-crush on you.”

“I wonder if I made it onto his freebie five.”

Kate barks out a laugh and leans forward, kisses him soundly. How she managed to resist giving in to this ridiculous, wonderful man for so many years is beyond her comprehension now. For so long, she couldn’t imagine a real life with him and now she can’t see anything else. She smiles against his lips, runs her fingers gently across his cheeks.

“You’re a dork.”

“True. But you love me anyway.”

“Yeah, I do.” She watches lust overtake the adoration in his eyes as she brings her hands back to her shirt front and opens two more buttons, leaving a single disc holding the fabric together at her breasts. Castle’s hands migrate from her thighs up to her stomach, the pads of his fingers skimming across the taut skin of her abdomen.

“That’s not fair, Beckett.” He wraps his hands high around her ribs, thumbs brushing against the swell of her breasts through the black lace of her bra. “That Esposito thing _definitely_ warrants the whole shirt.” She gasps when he brings his right hand around to fully cup her, pinching and rolling her nipple between two fingers. “Maybe even the pants too.”

“I’ll give you the shirt,” she says, breath hitching in her chest. She opens the last button, slides the lightweight cotton down her arms. “But you’re gonna have to work a little harder for the pants.”

Tossing her shirt on the other side of the couch, Kate looks down and shivers. The sight of his hands on her body affects her in ways she can never properly express. His long fingers and broad palms cover her, offer warmth and comfort, take her over the edge again and again. His hands are his tools; the outlet for his imagination, the words she loves so much. His hands tell his stories, their story.

“I’m tapped out,” he pulls her against his chest, drags his lips across her collarbone. “You’re going to have to fill in the rest for me.”

“Or we could skip that,” she drawls, skimming the fingers of one hand up his neck before burying them in his hair, “and just do this.” Fisting her fingers, she tugs his head away from her chest and claims his mouth. Castle groans into the kiss, his hands chasing each other aimlessly around her torso.

“Uh uh. Nope.” He kisses across her cheek, nips at the beauty mark on her jaw. “You can’t distract me with your womanly wiles.” He runs his tongue around the shell of her ear and she can hear the smile in his voice. “Not this time anyway.”

“Alright, Castle,” she whispers, bracing her hands on his chest, pushing herself off his lap. She looks down at him for a moment, sees the confusion flitting across his face, then turns and walks with purpose to the other side of the room. She’d really rather not have one of Castle’s employees walk in on this.

“Where’re you going?”

After triple checking the lock on the heavy oak door of his office, she turns to face him again. His eyes are hooded and dark but the rest of his features are still vaguely perplexed.

Kate holds his gaze as she toes off her heels, starts to stalk slowly toward him. Realization dawns across his face when she reaches behind herself and unfastens her bra, lets it slide lazily down her arms before dropping it on the plush carpet.

“Scott.”

Her fingers are working at the button and zipper of her slacks as she moves. He’s watching her every movement with an intensity that makes her heart hammer arrhythmically in her chest. His chest is flushed, his breathing audible.

“Max.”

The slacks pool around her ankles and she steps gracefully out of them. Castle’s eyes immediately roam her legs, trailing slowly from ankle to thigh. Her skin burns and prickles in the wake of his fevered gaze and she hastens her step, eager to feel his hands travel the same path.

“Amaya.”

His eyes flick to hers as she comes to a stop in front of him. A sly grin plays across her lips and she hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her underwear, tugging them deliberately down.

“Romao.”

Castle reaches out and wraps his fingers around her wrists, halts her movements. He sits forward on the couch, presses hot kisses along her thigh as he slides his hands down hers and hooks his own fingers into the waistband of her underwear. Desire unfurls in her chest, runs rampant through her veins.

“Andrew.”

He looks up at her, mouth still working across her trembling flank, drags the scrap of black lace down her legs. She lifts her feet, steps gingerly out of the tangle of fabric. She can see his erection pushing against the fabric of his jeans, feels a fresh wave of arousal sluice through her body. God, she wants him.

Kate drops to a crouch in front of him, hands working at his belt. She quickly unfastens his button fly, tugs forcefully at his pants. He chuckles and raises his hips off the couch as she none too gently divests him of his jeans and boxers. She clambers back onto his lap, silences his mirth with a searing kiss. His hands wrap around her sides, fingers dancing between her ribs, thumbs making wide arcs from the middle of her stomach to the underside of her breasts.

Castle breaks the kiss and dips his head, lets his mouth trail leisurely across her chest. “Josh. Will. Esposito.” He presses kisses to her torso after each word, tattooing them onto her skin with the heat of his breath, the wet swipe of his tongue. “Scott. Max. Amaya.” His hands start to drift up and down her sides, dipping lower and lower with each pass. “Romao. Andrew. Wet Flannel.” He reaches her ass and tugs, pulling her flush against his naked chest. Her hands trip through his hair as he brings his lips to her breast, takes her nipple between his teeth. “That’s only nine,” he mumbles against her skin. “Who’s the tenth?”

Kate widens her stance, lets her knees slide across the supple leather of the couch. She drops down until she can feel him, all of him, pressed against her entrance before she leans forward and presses her lips to his ear. “You,” she whispers, lowering herself, taking him fully inside of her. “You, Castle.”

His hands clamp tightly on her hips when she flutters around him, breath scalding her chest as he hisses, swears her name against her skin. She rolls her hips, grinding her pelvis into his. “Fuck. Kate. Fuck.” It’s a mantra, an invocation, a song of praise muttered into the curve of her neck.

They rock together, bodies falling into a familiar rhythm, their natural give and take elevated to another level. His teeth and lips assault her, laying claim to any tract of flesh he can reach. Her nails are clawing at his shoulders, scrambling for purchase on sweat slick flesh. He’s mumbling under his breath as he thrusts into her, unintelligible and vague, a swift current of words that tumble across her skin, pulling her under.

Castle groans, deep and animalistic, wraps his arms firmly around her waist. He slides forward on the couch, cants their bodies toward the floor. His intention seeps through her lusty haze and Kate wraps her legs high around his hips, lets him lower them both off the couch. Her back hits the carpet and Castle slips out of her, sits back on his haunches, unwraps her right leg from around his waist. He leans over her, supporting himself on straight arms, her thigh pressed into her stomach, calf resting against his shoulder.

They both moan, gazes locking, as Castle buries himself inside her. The look in his eyes is hot and feral and fuck she needs him to _move_. She plants her left foot on the carpet, uses it as leverage to push her hips up into him, digs the nails of one hand into the soft flesh of his ass.

“Castle,” she pants, her hot breath colliding with his neck then drifting back down to caress her cheeks, “please.” His hips are still, thighs quivering with restraint. She claws at his neck, scrapes her fingers up into his hair, drags his mouth down to hers. “Please,” she whimpers into his mouth, her tongue running along his lower lip. She tries to lift herself again, desperate for movement, friction, heat but his hand is a vise on her hip, pressing her firmly into the floor.

“You’re mine,” he growls, the words rumbling deep in his chest. “Mine.” He draws his hips back slowly, deliberately, pauses for an excruciating moment and then slams back into her.

“Yes,” she cries, her hips rising again and again to meet his frantic thrusts. “Yes. Yes. _Yes._ ”

Castle drops to his forearms, his fevered chest pressing her harder into the floor. She sinks her teeth into his shoulder, groans out his name as her orgasm starts, a white hot fire licking its way up her spine. His thrusts are sloppy and erratic as she clenches and spasms around him, broken words and phrases tumbling from his lips. She meets his gaze, runs her thumb along his chin.

“Yours.”

His eyes slam shut and he groans, guttural and dark, lets himself go. His arms give out after a moment and he collapses fully on top of her. Kate runs her hands up and down his back, whispers nonsense as he comes down, returns to himself. She startles when he suddenly starts to laugh, loud and raucous, against the side of her neck.

He rolls to the side, props himself up on one elbow to look at her. “I cannot believe I forgot to count myself.” He runs the tip of one finger up and down her breastbone, kisses her shoulder. “I’m an idiot.”

“And a little possessive” He looks abashed and she reaches up to brush the hair from his brow. “What happened to not being territorial?”

“I’m not as progressive as I thought, I guess. Not when it comes to you.” He presses his mouth to hers, whispers against her lips. “Sorry I went all caveman.”

“It’s ok,” she replies, grazing her lips across his cheek. “Was kinda hot.”

He laughs again, kisses her forehead and then drops back on the carpet. They lay in silence for a minute, relaxing, listening to each other breathe.

“So.”

Kate sighs and rolls her eyes. She knew this was coming. Knew he would have a hundred questions, most of which she has no intention of answering.

“You really slept with a guy named Romao? What the hell were _his_ parents thinking?”


End file.
